This Is Gale
by shedoesntbelieveinlove
Summary: Alternate last chapter of Mockingjay, since I was admittedly disappointed with the actual one. Epilogue to follow if there's interest.
1. Final Chapter

It is a long time before he comes to visit me.

Gale.

But he does come. The snow has begun to melt, and the icicles that have clung to the window panes so desperately throughout the winter have begun to fall. I am sitting outside on the porch, looking out at the remains of District 12- looking at the ashes, and looking at the sunrise- when I see him out of the corner of my eye.

Gale.

He walks with his head down, his shoulders slumped. He carries himself like a traveler who has seen too much of the world, more than they had ever wanted; a traveler who just wants to go home. After all this time, and after all the words he spoke against the district, 12 remains home to him. It is a shadow of what it used to be, of course. He is a shadow of what he used to be, too. But I recognize him instantly, immediately. Even though it feels like a thousand years have passed since I have seen him walk these streets, I can still pick him out of a crowd as if it was only yesterday.

My breath catches at the sight of him instantly, and a mix of emotions rises within me, invoking that which had been dormant for a long time. I cannot pick out which I am feeling more of- love, or anger; sadness, or relief; joy, or fright. I sit on the rocking chair, paralyzed. Unsure of what to do or say, or if I should do or say anything at all. But then, as he approaches the house I have yet to call home, he looks up. He looks me right in the eye, and in that moment, the anxiety disappears, and is replaced with a calm I have not felt since our last morning in the woods. Before the Games. I know I do not have to say anything if I do not desire to, and I know that he doesn't either. This is Gale.

But Gale does speak. As he steps up onto the porch, his boots leaving heavy marks of dirt, snow, and ice on the colored wood, he speaks.

"Hey, Catnip," he says softly. A ghost of a smile settles on his lips, barely twisting them upwards. Gale's eyes look about a thousand years old, and thin as glass on the verge of shattering.

I stand up slowly, allowing the blankets that had warmed my body fall to the ground. I freeze once more, wary of his presence, but a voice whispers in my head. _This is Gale,_ it reminds me. _Only Gale._

And then I am stepping forward and wrapping my arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent of oranges and pine, and letting myself go as he envelops me in his embrace. We stand there for a handful of minutes, a collection of seconds, and a fraction of eternity, simply holding on to the only pieces of each other that have remained. Holding on to each other.

"You came back," I whisper. I say it so quietly I doubt he hears me, but he does. He has always been able to pick up on the softest sounds.

"No amount of fire can change the fact that this is home," he explains, his voice low. "I had to come home," he says, his words catching in his throat and escaping in a choked voice.

Silence falls once more, but it is not uneasy or uncomfortable. This is Gale, after all.

But he breaks the silence once more, a millennium later. He gulps before speaking once more; I hear his heart pounding in his chest, the steady rhythm matching my own.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. The words need not be explained. Prim.

"I'm sorry, Catnip. I couldn't-," he struggles to continue. His voice is breaking; the walls of anger and sorrow and resent and sheer hurt are cracking, and I don't think he can stop them from collapsing this time. He is in a pain I have never seen him in before.

"I couldn't save her. I didn't know they-," Gale attempts to keep going, but I feel a single tear fall on to the top of my head, and I cannot stand to hear him in pain any longer. I silence his anguished words with a kiss; and it is then I realize that Gale was right on the night of the whipping, so long ago. My weakness is seeing him in pain.

I only remove myself from his lips for a breath, but I end up crying myself. The tears begin to spill over and race down my face, and this time, it is Gale who comforts me. He wipes a thumb over my cheek, although he knows that it is in vain. The tears will not stop, neither mine nor his.

"I know," I gasp out, my throat tight. The glass in Gale's eyes has shattered, and I know there will be nothing I can do to bring an end to the pain he is in right now. The pain we are both in. We are drowning in the same ocean of sorrow; the same pain, and the same loss. I have bottled up the sea of emotion inside of me for so long, I have no grasp of just how deep it is.

And then I see it. It is only here, only now, do I realize that Gale suffered greatly from her death, too. She was the second sister he never had; she was his little duck. He was her protector when I was not, and he was her provider when I could not provide. He was her brother. And I can see that nothing burdens his heart more than knowing he played a part in her death.

"I know," I repeat, more steady this time. He must know. He must know that I finally understand how deeply he hurts, too. He must know that I do not despise him, or resent him. He must know that I see his pain, and how I still long to stop it. He must know.

He must know that while I will never forget the past, or Prim, or his role in the loss of her life, or how she was taken from me- from us- I will forgive him.

I do not forgive easily. I do not forgive anyone, if I must be honest.

But this is Gale.


	2. Epilogue

Over time, I realized that what I needed was Gale's everlasting fire; not the hope that things would go on, but the promise that it would. I needed the warmth he would give me and the light that would never go out, and, at the end of the day, I needed my fire back. A reminder of the days before the darkness of the arena- because, while those days were dark, too, Gale's fire could always light them up for me. I needed the only person whom I could be myself with, even though there wasn't much of myself left. I knew whatever I had was enough for Gale; he had enough fire to burn on for the two of us.

So, on that day when I heard his footsteps in the door and saw him standing there in front of me, broken and bruised but still standing, after spending a long autumn alone, I knew that he would be there for the darkness of winter to come- and every winter after that. He would be there to be the light I needed and he would be there provide me with the warmth I longed for. He would be there to protect me, to keep me safe, because I was no longer up to the task. He was still mine, and I was still his. Nothing- no games, no arenas, no ghosts or mutts could change that. I know that if I had never been called onto that stage, this would have happened eventually.

He builds us a cabin in the woods, right by our spot. Posy, Vick, Rory, and Hazelle live in the Victor's Village. Posy spends most of her time here, though. Her laughter brightens everything, I think. She is only six, and she calls me her sister. She has eyes that remind me of Prim's, and Gale's dark hair. I try to teach him how to braid it, but he can only tie knots in it.

Sometimes, when the ghosts in my head are in front of my eyes, I scream. Gale always comes running, though. And he stays until I am no longer screaming. After being the strong one after all these years, taking care of a family that no longer exists and children in arenas who are already marked by death, Gale knows that I cannot hold my strength all the time. He will never understand the horror of the arena, and he does not see what I see, but he stays by my side anyways.

He never touches any weapons but his bow and snares again. It takes a long time, but finally, I am able to join him on his hunts. He never asks me to come, and for that, I am grateful. It's impossible to deny him anything, and he does not take advantage of my weakness for him.

He never asks for children, either. I know he remembers the conversation we had on the morning of the Reaping so long ago. We are content with having Posy and Vick here often, but that summer, we go visit Annie in 4. Johanna takes care of her and the baby, and it is not until I hold Finnick's son in my arms, so precious and small and pure, that I find myself longing for a child of my own. Longing to hold someone and look at someone as Annie holds him.

I bury the feeling for a year, two years, but finally, I tell Gale. He's surprised, and hesitant. He does not want to push me to do anything I don't want to do, and it takes a few months of convincing him that I really do want a child.

After all, we don't live in District 12 anymore.

Carrying the baby is terrifying. I wake up about seven times a night, screaming and shaking, and Gale is there to comfort me until I fall asleep again every time. But when I finally hold him in my arms, my heart is overwhelmed with a thousand emotions at once. I cry for a while, but then, when I hear him crying, too, I stop immediately. He needs me, and the part of me that yearned to care for Prim and Posy and Finnick's son is finally satisfied. Fulfilled.

He looks much like Gale. Except for his eyes. They are as blue as the flowers I laid in Rue's arms, and as blue as Prim's favorite hair ribbon. Peeta says there are as blue as bluebonnets. He tells me they are flowers that grow in the fields of 11, and that Delly keeps many pressed in the pages of her journals. She shows me them one day, and I agree.

Their daughter is only a year older than Aidan. They have named her Lily; she has Peeta's love for beauty and Delly's constant smile. When they visit, she and Aidan play in the Meadow. He picks her flowers, and she likes to put them in her hair. Peeta tells Gale that she speaks of Aidan often. Gale and Peeta laugh about this together- they are friends now, and when Peeta, Delly, and Lily come over for dinner, it is common for them to sit together on the porch as they watch our children play in the clearing.

The children will begin school. People have moved back to what used to be 12, and they have built up a town over the ashes of the last one. It is smaller, but much prettier. It no longer reeks of misery and desperation and ashes, but instead of the woods, hope, and strength.

On the first morning that Gale and I walk Aidan to school, Peeta, Delly, and Lily join us, too. As we stand and watch them enter the building along with tens of other children, Peeta turns to me.

"We're finally safe. And happy. And you are… you are happy too. Real, or not real?"

"Real," I say, and he smiles. "They're safe," I tell Gale. "They're safe." I repeat it, and even though I know I will never believe they are entirely safe, Hazelle tells me that this is normal.

Normal.

The word is foreign to me.

But I learn it. Gale and Aiden and I, we form our own normal. And, over time, the nightmares get better. They never go away, of course. But there are nights when I sleep from midnight to dawn, and do not wake once. On the nights I do lie awake, screaming into my pillow to keep from waking my son, Gale lies awake with me, and holds me until I feel safe again.

I don't ever return to my old self, of course. But neither does Gale. It is impossible, with her gone. Sometimes, it is Gale who lies awake instead of me, his heart stopped because he is paralyzed with fear, thinking he killed her.

But I am always there to bring him back to me. After all, he has to stay with me and cause all kinds of trouble.


End file.
